


stare into the endless sky

by casfallsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casfallsinlove/pseuds/casfallsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is bundled up in one of Dean's hoodies and he's a soft warmth at Dean's side where they sit hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder.</p>
<p>"We should do this more often," he says, nosing into Dean's temple, "I like vacationing with you."</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>[In which Dean and Cas take a trip to a little cabin by the ocean]</p>
            </blockquote>





	stare into the endless sky

**Author's Note:**

> this was mainly a distraction from my dcbb and it's largely unedited so i apologise for any mistakes 
> 
> (also on [tumblr](http://casfallsinlove.tumblr.com))

The sun is sinking behind the treeline when they finally pass through the border into Oregon, smudging pink and orange across the sky. Dean yawns and knuckles the corner of his eye to rub the exhaustion away, his other hand loose on the Impala’s wheel.

In the passenger seat, Cas is softly snoring. His head has fallen against the window in that way that’s gonna give him a crick in his neck when he wakes up, but it makes Dean smile. They’ve been on the road for three days already, virtually non-stop, just the two of them. Sam is off visiting Lauren, a hunter chick in Georgia he’s been “emailing”, and Dean had decided that maybe he and Cas deserved a vacation too.

He takes a sharp right off the highway and onto a beaten dirt track that winds through the trees. There’s a cabin tucked away out here near the coast, Dean stayed in it with his dad a couple times. It’s basic but as far as he knows it’s clean and empty, so that’s where they headed.

Dusk has fallen completely when they arrive. Dean kills the engine and for a few seconds the only sound is the chirping of the cicadas outside and the push and pull of the ocean just beyond the trees. It’s real fuckin’ nice, actually. There’s no screaming in his head anymore now that the Mark’s gone, no buzzing in his ears or blood roaring through his veins. He's missed the quiet.

He reaches over and gently shakes Cas’s thigh until he stirs, stretching and rubbing his neck.

“Are we here?” he asks blearily.

“Yep. C’mon, dinner.”

  
  


 

The cabin is musty but functional. Dean makes spaghetti, because he can and because they need something other than diner food. He has to grate carrots into the sauce because Cas will eat entire raw ones with a whole pot of hummus but cook them and he refuses to put them near his mouth if they’re bigger than his thumbnail, like some kind of little kid. Dean doesn’t mind. He’d grate all the carrots in the world if it meant getting to cook for Cas every night.

They share quiet conversation while they eat. It’s easy. Comfortable. Back at the bunker meals are usually noisy nowadays; often Jody will be there, usually with Alex and Claire in tow, occasionally Donna. Sometimes Krissie and her pals will show up to make use of the bunker’s archives. Dean loves it, absolutely loves it, but this is nice too. Just getting to be with Cas in the solitude of the wilderness.

“Hey,” he says after they’ve finished, and Cas is carrying the dishes to the sink, “let’s go sit outside for a while.”

Cas smiles at him, and Dean knows exactly what he’s thinking. After he became human for good, after they’d gotten rid of the Darkness and Metatron and Crowley at fucking last, Cas would disappear for a couple of hours every evening and it wasn’t until Dean started freaking out about where he was going and if he was coming back that he followed him and found him on the roof goddamn stargazing, of all things.

How he convinced Dean to stay and stargaze with him, they will never know.

"I knew you liked it," Cas says triumphantly as he grabs the moth-eaten old blanket from the couch.

“Yeah alright, whatever, Neil deGrasse Tyson,” Dean snarks, shoving his feet back into his boots.

The darkness out here is solid and oppressing without the light pollution from the cities but the stars are so, so bright. They walk a little ways down to the beach where the ocean glitters in the moonlight, like there's a whole galaxy trapped under the lapping waves. Dean spreads the blanket out and sits, reaching up to grab Cas's wrist and pull him down too.

Cas is bundled up in one of Dean's hoodies and he's a soft warmth at Dean's side where they sit hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"We should do this more often," he says, nosing into Dean's temple, "I like vacationing with you."

"Jeez, Cas, it ain't exactly a five-star hotel in Hawaii," Dean scoffs, tips of his ears pink.

"I don't think we'd enjoy that very much. This is more us."

"You underestimate my love of a complimentary robe," Dean tells him, and Cas gives him one of those fond looks that makes him feel like the Grinch, like his heart is swelling too big in his chest. Christ. He lets his head rest on top of Cas's for a while until it passes. His hair smells like the raspberry and tea tree shampoo he gets from the hippie store Sam's always dragging him to and Dean refuses to admit that it's growing on him but he presses a kiss there anyway.

He falls backwards and takes Cas with him until they're lying as comfortably as they can on the scratchy blanket that's rapidly being swallowed by the surrounding sand. He tucks his chin into Cas's chest, the way he's got used to doing at night. Through the skin and muscles and bones he can hear his very human heart beating.

"You can't possibly see the stars like that," Cas chides, but his fingers are dancing up and down Dean's back. Dean shivers, and not just because of the ocean breeze.

"'M exhausted," he mumbles, rubbing the cold tip of his nose into Cas's hoodie.

Cas hums. "It's been a long few months."

"Try a long few decades," Dean huffs, arm tightening around Cas's waist. Although. Well, it's not been all bad. This--having Cas like this, like he's gonna for the rest of his life, has been pretty fucking great, actually.

"C'mon then, tell me 'bout them stars," he orders sleepily.

There's a jostle where Cas moves, folding one arm behind his head. "Have I told you about Ophiuchus?"

God if Dean knows. He can't remember all the shit Cas spouts off when he gets going, but it doesn't sound familiar. He shakes his head.

"He was a great physician," Cas’s voice is a low, soothing rumble, “he would make medicines from the poison of snakes and plants, until one day he figured out a way to bring back the dead. Of course, Hades couldn’t allow that…”

  
  


 

Dean didn't mean to fall asleep, yet here he is opening his eyes to the pale light of dawn and Cas's morning wood pressing against his ass.

"Fuckin' yeah," he mutters, shimmying backwards shamelessly. He aches from sleeping on the beach--whose stupid idea was that--but he can ignore it for a little while.

“Dean,” Cas grunts, voice thick with sleep.

Dean rolls over to face him, grinning at the irritated little scrunch between Cas’s eyebrows. He kisses that spot, then his forehead, the line of his hair, down over his cheeks until he finally sucks Cas’s lower lip into his mouth in the way that really gets him going. It’s totally filthy and hot, because Cas is totally filthy and hot, and Dean’s not ashamed to play a little dirty to get what he wants.

“Your hands are cold,” Cas complains when Dean shoves them up under his hoodie, but Cas’s body is a furnace all the time so whatever.

“What do you expect, we’re on a beach in the Pacific Northwest at 7am,” Dean reminds him, before diving back in. He rolls them so he’s on top of Cas, pressing him down into the blanket, soaking up the warmth of him. “Jesus, we _slept_ out here. What are we, teenage fratboys?”

“Would a teenage fratboy do this?” Cas asks, plunging his hands down the back of Dean’s jeans, under his boxers. Dean very manfully doesn’t yelp in surprise.

“Probably, to be honest,” he grins, dropping a lush open-mouthed kiss to Cas’s lips. Cas’s hands squeeze his ass and heat pools in Dean’s stomach. He moans and his toes curl inside his boots. “Fuck, Cas.”

Cas smiles against his jaw. “If you want.”

God, does Dean _want_. He always wants Cas, has wanted him for so long it almost feels surreal that he’s actually allowed this now, allowed to drag his fingers down Cas’s sides in that way that makes him shiver and fumble with the button on his jeans until it finally pops open. He drags his own shirts off and then rucks Cas’s hoodie up under his armpits, kissing the tan skin exposed to him, working his way down until he hits the edge of his boxers and then he stops, because they’re an eye-searing neon green covered in little pink flamingos. They were a gag gift Dean got him a couple of Christmases ago; he wasn’t supposed to actually _wear_ them.

“Fuck,” Dean says, and starts laughing. He laughs with his forehead pressed against Cas’s tummy and his mouth close enough to his raging hard on that he can feel it nudging into his chin. “God, Cas, you--”

Even with his hips subtly rocking up into Dean’s face, Dean knows Cas is scowling from the way he says, “I didn’t have any others clean and the last time I borrowed yours you told me off being _unsanitary_.”

“Damn right,” Dean agrees, but he’s still chuckling as his lips travel over the soft material, hot breath making Cas cry out as he feels out the hard shape of him with his mouth.

“Dean, Dean,” Cas pants and Dean grips his thighs through his jeans then slides his hands up to tug those and his underwear down fully.

“We’re not having sex here,” he says, even as he kisses his way back up to Cas’s mouth, red and swollen already. “I refuse to get sand in my ass crack, man.”

“Ugh,” Cas groans, his hands clamping down on Dean’s shoulders. Dean takes pity on him. He takes him in one hand, teasing, his fist curled too lightly for Cas to feel any real pressure.

“But when we get back to the cabin,” he whispers, and he can’t resist looking down to see where Cas’s dick is dark and leaking in his fingers, and _fuck_ , that's hot, “you’re gonna fuck me. Open me up with your fingers and your tongue, get me ready for you--and then you're gonna pound me into the mattress six ways from Sunday. That sound good to you?”

Cas’s answer is an incoherent whine and before Dean knows it he’s been rolled over so he’s the one on his back and Cas is a trembling, panting wreck above him. He kisses him, hot and heady and fast, tongue all up in Dean’s mouth with little finesse. Good. Dean loves this side of him, loves seeing Cas a little messed up and a lot turned on. Knowing he did that is the best part.

"C'mon, Cas, c'mon," he goads, not really sure what he's asking for, but sighing in relief when Cas finally tugs his pants out of the way. "Yeah, that's it."

The slide of dick-on-dick is so good Dean's vision goes fuzzy and when Cas's long, steady fingers encircle both of them and start to stroke he hears himself make an unholy noise. He starts to babble nonsense, shit like "yeah baby c'mon, so good, you're so good, _fuck_ " that he's gonna pretend to be embarrassed by later.

"When we get back," Cas growls into his ear, his whole body writhing on top of Dean's in this fucking amazing way, even though they're both still half-dressed and they're on a beach, for crying out loud, "I'm going to fuck you nice and _slow_ , really make you feel it."

Jesus fucking christ.

Then there's pressure behind Dean's balls, a single slick finger trailing a path down there, and Dean gasps out Cas's name as that finger circles his hole and slips inside, pressing and twisting until Cas finds his prostate with expert precision and then he's merciless, teasing Dean non-stop until his whole body is a sweaty, shaking mess, strung-out and desperate.

"Yeah, yeah, want it, want you," Dean moans, then slams their mouths together just as that roiling, building heat inside him reaches its crescendo.

He doesn't so much as tumble over the edge as he does soar, pleasure ripping through his bones and making his blood sing. Faintly, he hears Cas saying his name, can feel the soft kisses pressed to his chin and eyelids and temples, but he's lost, gone, riding the high of his orgasm.

When he finally comes back down he finds that he's got one hand buried in Cas's hair, the other palming his sweaty lower back, and Cas's dick is still heavy and unsatisfied between his legs, he's still breathing unevenly and practically humping Dean's thigh, so Dean pulls him up until Cas is straddling his waist and rasps, "Come on me, Cas."

Cas's eyes roll back as he groans, fisting his dick furiously over Dean's bare chest, one hand planted on the blanket by his head as he leans over to kiss Dean again.

It doesn't take long. Dean pulls out every trick he knows while Cas jerks off; pulling gently on his hair, kissing that spot behind his ear, lightly scoring his fingernails down his spine, and then Cas grunts and breaks the kiss to gasp as he spills warmth all over Dean's collarbone.

With an _oomph_ , Cas collapses on top of him. Dean feels shivery with pleasure and curls his arms around Cas's waist, open mouth pressed to his shoulder while he tries to catch his breath.

"You're beautiful," Cas tells him quietly, exhausted. They've not even had breakfast yet, Dean thinks a little hysterically.

"You're heavy," he says, and Cas pinches his ribs before rolling off of him. He swipes up Dean's discarded flannel and wipes them both down with it, smiling all the while.

"We should head back," he says after he's done, and yeah Dean's not gonna argue with that. Despite what he'd said he's still got sand where sand should never be and he's sticky and sweaty and stinks of spunk. He wants a shower and a huge plate of eggs and bacon, stat.

As they retrace their route through the trees, Dean grabs Cas's hand and admits, "You were right. We should definitely do this more often."

A slightly smug smile graces Cas's unshaven jaw. "I'm always right."

"You're a fucking dick, is what you are," Dean tells him, but he can't resist pulling him in for a quick kiss. "So, what d'you think? Road trip? Hawaii? Goddamn Europe?"

The look Cas gives him says _yes to all_ and Dean's knees go a bit weak. Alright. Italy, here they come.

 

 

 


End file.
